Detour
by AkaiNagi
Summary: The crew of the Nomad is forced to go ashore on a mysterious island. Evil wizards, kidnappings and mysterious strangers abound. Maybe they should have taken their chances at sea? Rated for future violent bits.
1. Detour: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never have, never will.

Classification: Adventure/Romance: MS, FOC. Romantic bits slow in coming.

Summary: The crew of the Nomad is forced to go ashore on a mysterious island. Evil wizards, kidnappings, mysterious strangers abound. Maybe they should have taken their chances at sea?

DETOUR

By Ucchan

The crew of the Nomad, with its famed and courageous captain, had faced many evils in their months at sea. They battled wizards, demons, madmen, fierce storms, and on occasion, each other. They had been shot at, beat up, beat down, taunted, tortured, keelhauled, rocked and rolled. They had always come out on top, through use of skill, magic, science or sheer desperate effort. The famed and courageous captain of the Nomad refused to believe they would be cowed by something as mundane as a windless day. But it was not just one windless day. It was twenty-two windless days.

Three weeks.

Three cursed, endless weeks. And not a breeze in sight. Twenty-one days ago, the dawn had broken to reveal a bright, clear, surprisingly windless day. No one had thought much of it. It was a sailor's lot in life to be at the mercy of the elements. Better a windless day than gales and a raging sea.

As dawn broke on the twenty-second day, Sinbad, Captain of the Nomad stood on the prow of his listless ship, wondering if this day would prove different than the last twenty-one. It certainly looked the same as every other day. Sailors lazing about, nothing to do but sit around and lament their misfortune. That and speculate on how much longer their provisions would last. A few of the crew remained below decks, probably not wishing to come up and face the reality of another stagnant, windless day. The Celtic witch, Maeve sat at the bow of ship, poring over a magic text in the relative coolness of the early morning. The dead air made each warm day into a trial by fire. Rongar, the silent Moor, stood midship, leaned against the mast, and staring off into the horizon. Sinbad wondered, not for the first time, what the dark-skinned man was thinking. Doubar was still below, probably in the galley. Firouz was holed up, as usual, working on his latest project. Sinbad almost envied him. The Nomad's resident physician seemed to find all the occupation he needed in the playground of his own mind. Sinbad, on the other hand, was bored into a stupor, and was beginning to get the niggling feeling that this calm was going to prove far more trouble than he had ever expected.

Sinbad sighed. Most days he reveled in his life as adventurer and captain. It was a life of freedom and camaraderie with the crew he had come to regard as his extended family. Other days, however, the responsibility of their welfare weighed heavy on him. Another week at most, and they could well be out of water. What would they do then, with no port in sight and the late summer sun blazing overhead? Suddenly he was gripped by the desire to talk to someone, anyone to distract him from his own brooding. He strode across the deck to where his sole female crewmember absorbed herself in her studies. Maeve was always good for taking his mind off things. She had a sharp wit, which she never hesitated to sharpen against him. The fact that she was one of the most strikingly attractive women he ever did come across might also be a factor. He had not talked to her much in the last few days. She had been quiet and introverted as of late, but he supposed they all were of late, himself included. Maeve was so absorbed in what she was reading, she didn't even notice when Sinbad came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

"Isn't that the same book you've been studying for the past two weeks?" he asked quietly.

Maeve gave a start. "Sinbad! Don't go sneaking up on people like that!" she snapped.

"Sorry," he said sincerely. They were all on edge lately. He sat down on the crate next to her. "Well, haven't you?" he repeated.

She glared at him for a minute and Sinbad thought she was going to make a tart remark. So his surprise, her irritation deflated and she sighed heavily. "The last three weeks, actually." She closed the heavy text with thump.

Sinbad smiled. "Must be quite a book."

"I'm sure it is. I haven't been paying much attention to it, actually," she confessed.

"What's wrong?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she really wanted to tell him.

"Maeve?" Now he was concerned.

"Something doesn't feel right."

Sinbad pointed above to the Nomad's motionless sails. "No kidding," he said dryly.

She shook her head. "No," she said quietly. This was not something she wanted the rest of the crew to hear. They were uneasy enough as it was. "It's not just that. I mean, it started when the winds died, but it's been getting worse."

"What has?"

Maeve glanced around her. A couple of the crewmen were watching them with interest. Including Rongar, but she was unconcerned about him. He had a level head, and would not overreact like some of the other men.

Sinbad noticed her concern. It amplified his own. He rose to his feet. "The galley," he stated. Without waiting for her, he strode below deck. The only soul in the galley was his older brother, Doubar. The big man was leaning back in a chair, his hand folded over his belly. He looked like he was taking a nap.

"Brother," Doubar greeted him without looking up. "Let me guess. Another boiling, dry, windless day?"

"How'd you guess?"

Doubar glanced up at the grimness in Sinbad's voice. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out." He gestured to Maeve as she entered the small galley. They both sat at the table. Doubar sat up in his chair, his interest roused.

"Ever since the wind stopped," she began uneasily, "I've been feeling a presence." She held up her hand when Sinbad tried to interject. "Not here on the ship," she replied to the unspoken question. "More like everywhere. It's in the air. I felt it most the night the wind disappeared. When the feeling didn't return, I discounted it as my imagination …" she trailed off.

"But it wasn't," Sinbad stated.

Maeve shook her head. "A few days it they started coming back. It was a small feeling at first. But it's been getting worse." She hesitated; looking around for a moment, like she was making absolutely sure no one else was around to her. She leaned towards Sinbad. "And I've been having these dreams. I think they're connected to our wind problem."

Sinbad didn't like where this was headed. "What kind of dreams. Prophetic dreams?"

"I don't really know. I can't remember much about them after I wake." She sighed in her frustration. "I just know they have the same presence that I feel in the air. The same one I felt the night the wind stopped. The same one that's been getting worse for the past week."

Doubar rose from his seat. "So this unnatural calm; this thing that's kept us drifting for going on a month," he growled, "is magic?"

Maeve nodded grimly. "Yes. I don't see how it could be anything else. This kind of weather isn't exactly normal," she pointed out.

Sinbad groaned inwardly. Doubar had just put voice to something he hadn't wanted to contemplate. If their dire straits were caused by magic, then there was no hope of it, no pun intended, blowing over. They were being held immobile in the middle of the ocean with rapidly dwindling stores by magic? "How? Why? Who could do this?" he asked angrily.

Maeve flashed a got glance at him, raising her voice "How should I know!" she snapped. "It's not like you haven't made your share of magical enemies!"

Sinbad gestured at her to keep her voice down. She crossed her arms in a huff and looked away. Despite her momentary rush, she looked tired, Sinbad realized. She must not have been sleeping well. Now he knew why. He felt a twinge of remorse for jumping on her. Now was not the time to start in on each other. He apologized sincerely.

Maeve's anger disappeared as quickly as it came. That was her way; quick to anger, but also to forgive. "I've been looking through my books for any references to wind spells. I haven't found anything about wind binding spells, let alone how to undo one. I've found some for the harnessing and generating of wind, but I'm just not powerful enough to generate enough to move the Nomad for any distance." Her shoulders slumped. She feared this magic was beyond her skill to combat.

Doubar sat down next to her. "It's not your fault, Maeve."

Sinbad placed a hand over her long, slender one. "Doubar's right, Maeve," he said a comfortingly as he could. "You always do your best. We know you're trying." He smiled in an attempt at humor. "It's not your fault I've pissed off every evil wizard here to Basra."

Doubar laughed. "Not to mention their daughters."

Sinbad raised an eyebrow at that. "Rumina? Maeve, could Rumina do this?"

Maeve thought a second. "She could," she answered cautiously. "Rumina's powerful enough, I think." Then she shook her head. "I don't think it's her, though. This is a little too subtle for Rumina. She likes her tricks to be a little flashier. Why would she do it, anyway? Why would anyone? What does it serve?"

"Besides leaving us to rot in the middle of the ocean?" Sinbad asked archly. "Who knows?" He turned to his brother. "Doubar, get Firouz and Rongar. They need to be let in on this. Maybe Firouz has some bright ideas." Sinbad was hoping someone did. He did not much relish a slow death from dehydration or starvation for his crew or himself.

Several minutes later, Sinbad, Maeve, Firouz, Rongar and Doubar convened in Firouz's makeshift workspace. None of the other crew would chance to overhear them there. Amid the clutter of scrolls, parchments, blueprints, trinkets, and dozens of inventions, all in various stages of completion, Sinbad and Maeve imparted to the other crewmen their sad state of affairs. Rongar took the news as he took most everything, with silent stoicism. Firouz also took the news as he took most everything; with totally inappropriate enthusiasm. Once Maeve convinced his logic-rooted mind that they were in all likelihood dealing with magical forces, he found the sublimating of such a powerful natural force as the wind to be a 'fascinating phenomenon.'

Doubar was short on patience when it came to what he considered to be Firouz's nonsensical ramblings. "And by fascinating, I'm sure you mean horrible," Doubar interjected testily. "Seeing as how we're probably going to dry up and starve out here in the middle of the sea."

Firouz replied absentmindedly, "Yes, of course." Sinbad could practically see the scientist's mind going off in five directions at once. Sometimes he honestly wondered about that man.

"Firouz," Sinbad prompted, "What about your wind machine? Are you sure it won't do us any good?" This possibility had been brought up before, sometime during their second week of aimless drifting.

Firouz smiled apologetically. "Quite sure," he replied. "The amount of wind it could generate would be negligible when compared to the amount we would need to propel something the size of the Nomad." the curly-haired main thought for a moment. "At least as it is," he added.

"As what is?" Sinbad prompted, feeling like he was pulling teeth.

"My wind machine," Firouz continued. The gears of his mind were turning. "With some modifications, I might be able to generate more … it may still not be enough, though."

"Do it, Firouz. We're running out of time here. Anything's worth a try." He turned to Maeve, placing a hand on her shoulder. Maeve, you said you had some wind spells. If we add your spells to Firouz's wind machine, do you think we might have enough to get us moving?"

Maeve looked heartened. "Maybe," she said hopefully. "I'll gather all my wind spells and see what I can come up with. Together we might be able to get somewhere."

Sinbad smiled encouragingly to his crew. "Good. I'll look over our maps and see where the nearest landfall should be. I'll take any port at this point. Doubar, Rongar, go above and try to placate the crew. They know something's up, I've heard them talking. Distract them, do whatever you have to. Hopefully we'll be out of this mess soon."

His crew indicated their approval and hurried to their respective tasks. Firouz began amending the designs for his wind machines, Maeve went back to her spells, and Doubar and Rongar went above. 'That's better,' Sinbad thought with something akin to satisfaction. Things were moving forward. Figuratively speaking, at least. With any luck, they would soon get the Nomad moving for real.

To be continued ….

Short, wasn't it? Just testing the waters (and my formatting) with this first chapter, folks. I've got more right here in my hot little hard drive. Please review if you would like to see it. Feedback is the only way writers have to know if we are on the right track or not!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A few hours later found Firouz on the stern of the Nomad, tinkering with his wind machine, making the last of his modifications. He has serious doubts whether all this would do any good. Still, the thrill of a new experiment had him buzzing with excitement. He was oblivious to the stares of the crewmen, who were all wondering what the man had to be so happy about, since they were most likely all condemned to a slow death in the middle of the ocean.

But how could he not be excited? He was doing what he loved most in the conditions he best liked to do it. He worked best with two things; pressure and sea air. He had both in spades now. 'I could do without that sea air being so hot, though,' he thought as he stood to survey the last of his improvements. His vision swam a bit. He pulled a rag out of his belt and sponged the sweat out of his eyes. His vision still remained blurred. His dark, curly hair was matted to his head from the perspiration.

'Dizziness … blurred vision … headache … excessive perspiration. 'Hyperthermia,' he diagnosed. He was coming down with a handy case of heatstroke. Squinting at the sky, he noticed that the sun had moved quite a bit to the west. Had he really been working for that long? He surrendered for the need for a break, and for what limited shade could be found above deck. He sat down in a shaded patch next to the cabin.

He wondered how Maeve was doing. He hoped she came up with something good. Science alone would not be enough to get the Nomad moving again. Not that he would ever admit to anyone that science, for once, needed the help of magic.

Firouz was startled by a movement beside him, and looked up to see Rongar beside him. The Moor held a cup of water in his outstretched hand. Firouz accepted gratefully and downed it in a couple large gulps. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

Rongar crouched down next to Firouz. With the efficient hand gestures the inventor had come to know quite well, Rongar asked how work was coming on the machine.

"I'm nearly done," he answered. I just have to calculate the placement. I hope Maeve has had some luck with her spells."

Rongar nodded, then gestured to the sun, stating the obvious.

"It's roasting," Firouz agreed. "Not that it seems to bother you." Rongar was barely breaking a sweat.

The moor smiled and shrugged. He was a hardy type. Firouz supposed that having your tongue cut out and being banned from your homeland on penalty of death would do that to a person.

Firouz looked over at his machine. He really should get back to work. He wanted to be ready when Maeve was. But what if it didn't work? He tried never to dwell on the possibility of failure. Confidence in your abilities is an inventor's most valuable tool, his father had taught him. Sometimes, though, the fear that his best efforts wouldn't be enough were too strong to quash completely.

The shouting of Massoud, up in the crow's nest jerked him out of his reverie.

"Land ho!" the man called, pointing to the northern horizon.

Rongar was already halfway to the cabin, off to fetch the Sinbad, by the time Firouz was even on his feet. 'Must be a mistake,' he thought as took the magnascope from its pouch on his belt and used it to scan the horizon. 'There shouldn't be any land near here. Must be a hallucination from the heat and overexposure to the - … wait a minute…'

Far in the distance on the starboard side, a distinct mass rose up out of the ocean. 'How did Massoud even see that? It must be hours away.'

"Firouz!" Sinbad called as he emerged from the cabin.

Firouz handed the magnascope to the captain. Doubar, Maeve and most of the crew stood behind him, waiting for confirmation that they weren't going to perish out here after all. "It certainly appears to be a land mass of some kind," Firouz reported. "Perhaps a small island."

The captain peered through the device of a moment before answering. "It looks like an island alright." Sinbad was puzzled. "But I didn't see any nearby islands on the map, and surely we didn't drift that far off course …"

Firouz shrugged. He had been thinking the same thing.

"Never mind, how it came to be there, little brother," Doubar interjected. "It's a gift. One with fresh water and maybe even a town." Doubar got a wistful look in his eye.

Sinbad know his brother's head was filling with images of grog-filled taverns and comely island wenches already. He grinned. "Right you are, Doubar. We head for the island," he called to his crew. "Maeve, Firouz, are you two ready? We could sure use a good breeze to get us on our way."

"Ready as I'll ever be," Maeve answered.

Firouz replied that he needed a few more moments to prepare. "I need to calculate the optimum position for the-"

"Good. Do it," Sinbad cut him off.

Firouz went back to his machine, grumbling about the fact that no one ever seemed to want his explanation for anything.

Sinbad watched from nearby as Firouz directed Doubar and Rongar to maneuver the large clunky machine into the 'optimum position.' He was more disturbed than he let on about the mysterious island that appeared from nowhere. But they had no choice but to head for it. He hated not having a choice.

Firouz finally got his machine where he wanted it. Or rather, Doubar and Rongar finally refused to move it for the umpteenth time. Maeve, spellbook in hand, took up position beside the contraption. She was in what Sinbad had come to regard as her full conjuring mode. His expression was one of grim concentration.

The tireless Doubar took on the task of cranking the big machine. Whatever improvements Firouz made, they obviously did the trick. The sails began to immediately blow outward.

Sinbad decided that no matter how efficient Firouz's machine was, Maeve's method of wind production was far more pleasing to the eye. With one arm cradling her spellbook, and the other outstretched towards the sails, she made a picture that was simultaneously beautiful and frightening. Seeing her everyday aboard ship, he sometimes forgot the kind of power she carried around inside her. Had she really only been with them on the Nomad for less than a year now? She seemed ages removed from what she had been; a mere magician's apprentice, lacking in skill and confidence, but yet still trying to prove herself to everyone.

As time slipped by, the Nomad picked up speed. She was moving at a good pace now. At this rate, they'd arrive at the island well before nightfall. 'That is, if Maeve and Doubar can keep this up,' Sinbad thought to himself. Doubar was looking red in the face. The heat was taking its toll, but he stubbornly refused to let Rongar relieve him. And Maeve would probably conjure until she dropped. She could be as stubborn as Doubar.

As if on cue, the incantations stopped. Maeve swayed drunkenly, and probably would have collapsed on the deck if Sinbad hadn't gotten there to help hold her up.

Doubar stopped cranking and Firouz rushed over to see what happened.

"Maeve!" Sinbad tried to shake her out of her trancelike state. "Maeve, are you alright?"

Maeve just looked at him dumbly for a moment, her wide green eyes not registering anything. Then she snapped out of it.

"Hey! What's the big idea!" she snapped, and pushed him away.

Sinbad smiled awkwardly. That was his Maeve. "You almost went face-first onto the deck," he informed her.

She straightened herself up proudly. "Yeah, well I'm fine now. I just lost my concentration, that's all. Now let's get back to it, that island's not getting any closer."

Sinbad shook his head emphatically. "I'm afraid not, you're taking a break." She started to protest. "And so is Doubar," he added.

"Hey!" his brother protested.

"We don't need you two exhausting yourselves," he insisted.

Firouz offered his opinion. "Sinbad's right. You shouldn't overexert yourselves in this heat."

Maeve and Doubar both glowered at him and stalked off to some shade. 'Remind me to be nice to Firouz in the near future,' he told himself.

That's how it went for the next few hours. Doubar and Maeve would crank and conjure, then they would both grumble off to a reluctant break. By the time they reached the small bay, the sun was setting in the West. Sinbad was just thankful it wasn't completely dark. He didn't relish the thought of pulling into a strange cove in the pitch of night.

He sent an exhausted Maeve and Doubar to get some rest, informing the crew that they would head ashore at first light to gather water, fruit, and anything else they could lay their hands on. He was just about to head off to sleep himself, when he spied Firouz up in the bow. The inventor was looking through his magnascope at the shore. The light of the full moon gave the island in front of them an eerie glow.

Firouz heard Sinbad come up behind him. "This island has some unusual geographical features for such a small land mass," he told the captain.

Sinbad chuckled. "And you'll get to see them all up-close and personal tomorrow, Firouz. Now go get some rest."

Firouz reluctantly handed the magnascope to Sinbad and headed for the cabin.

Sinbad stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "That was good work you did today. We wouldn't have made it here without your invention."

Firouz looked flustered. "Well, Maeve and Doubar did a lot of the hard work. I just-"

"Firouz."

"Yes?"

"Just take the compliment, okay?"

The inventor grinned. "Aye, captain. Thank you." Firouz hurried off to the cabin, still smiling. He was an easy man to please.

Sinbad looked at the island, wondering what it contained. Something about it made him uneasy. Or maybe what really made him uneasy was the fact that finding the island didn't solve their real problem. Sure, they wouldn't starve now, but what would they do with no wind? If the wind really was being held back by magic, who was to know when it would come back? He gave the island one last look before he went below deck, wondering how long they were going to be stuck there.

Sinbad woke before dawn to make sure all was ready to go ashore at first light. As he stood on the deck of the Nomad, he decided that the island looked much less sinister in the daylight than it did under the light of the moon. It looked like any other small island, except for the strange rock formation that jutted up from its center. Too tall for a hill, and too small for a mountain, he had never seen the likes of it.

Dawn had just broken when a tired, sullen looking Maeve came above deck, strapping her sword to her side as she walked. Sinbad strode over to bid her good morning, but it came out of his mouth differently than he had planned.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" he asked bluntly.

Maeve glowered at him. The way her temperament looked this morning, he was lucky she didn't try to singe his hide with a fireball. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked threateningly.

'It means you look like you've been keelhauled couple of times and then hung from the mast all night.' But this time he thought before he spoke. "You look a little tired, is all," he said in his most placating tone.

Maeve sighed and stared off at the island. "It's the dreams," she admitted quietly. "They're getting stronger. They have something to do with this place."

Sinbad looked at her skeptically. "This little island? Are you sure?"

She glowered at him again. "No, I'm not sure," she grumbled. "It's a feeling, like everything else. But so far my record for creepy feelings is pretty close to perfect." She gestured to the shore, "and this place gives my feelings the creeps."

Sinbad decided to risk a fireballing twice in one morning. "You know you don't have to come with us. If this place doesn't sit right with you, you can mind the ship. We're just collecting some supplies, anyway"

Maeve shook her head. "I'm not staying on the ship. Besides, if this island is as much trouble as my gut says it is, you're going to need me."

That surprised Sinbad. He had expected the same scathing lecture about male chauvinism he had gotten the last time he suggested she stay behind. She was very … subdued today. He watched the redhead as she held her arm into the air for her hawk, Dermott to land on. She stared at the bird and Sinbad knew they were conversing in the silent language that only the two of them understood. At least the bird understood her. He was beginning to despair that he ever would.

Doubar's booming voice called out across the deck. "Little brother! Ready to go exploring?"

Doubar, Rongar, Firouz and the other crew going ashore were gathered by the boats, waiting for them. Trouble or not, they were going to that island.

TBC …

Nessie, dshortklutz, Lili, Milie;

Woo-hoo! Thanks for the reviews. You all made my week. Yup, this will have M/S. I originally envisioned a Firouz story, but the F/OC part will be a looooong time in coming. Until then, it's all M/S. Fair warning, though, I take my romances slow (I've always thought that waiting is half the fun). I'm glad to see that's no one is missing the Bryn character. I don't plan on writing her, as I didn't care for her character, or the direction the show took in the second season. Thanks again for RR!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Standing on the shore of the unknown island, she had to admit it was an idyllic looking place. White sands, clear waters, and a lush forest stretching out as far as the eye could see.

Maeve hated it.

The place made her skin crawl the moment she set foot out of the long boat.

Dermott immediately took flight inland, searching for fresh water and signs of life. She had to stop herself from calling him back. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. Her brother was the same in hawk form as he had been in human form; impetuous, loyal and helpful to a fault.

'Take care, Dermott,' she warned. 'Something is foul here.'

The hawk was already disappearing over the forest. 'All the more reason to be quick about it, sister,' was his flippant reply.

'Dermott doesn't feel it either,' she marveled. Was she the only one? She looked at her male companions. Sinbad with his guarded optimism, Firouz with his completely unguarded optimism, Doubar with easygoing smile and Rongar with his observant silence. They were completely oblivious to the vibrations this place was putting out. The place had her humming like a tuning fork. It was pushing her, pulling her, calling her, poking around in her guts and her brain. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Maeve? What ails you, girl?" Doubar sounded like he was a hundred miles away.

Gods, how could they not feel it? It was everywhere. She was starting to panic, her heartbeats and her breath coming faster. Closing her eyes, she tried erecting her magical barriers the way Dim Dim had taught her. She visualized the wall going up stone by stone. Another stone, another breath. Better. The panic started to recede.

"Maeve? Maeve!"

Another stone. Another. "Just … give me a minute," she hissed from between clenched teeth. The wall went higher. There. The overwhelming roar of power was dulled to a manageable throb.

She opened her eyes to see her four crewmates staring at her like she had grown a second, evil head. "What?" she asked testily.

Sinbad was the one to answer. "You looked a little … shaky there for a minute."

'You have no idea,' she thought wryly. "I'm fine," she informed them. "I'll be even better when we get what we came for and get the hell off this island." She cocked her head. She mind picked up a familiar summons. "Dermott's found water," she reported.

Sinbad grinned. "That was fast."

Maeve nodded. "It's just inside the forest. A small stream." She pointed ahead towards the thick grove of trees.

Sinbad called out to his crew crewmen. "Bring the water barrels! There's a stream just inland."

The men all took a couple of the small water casks out of the longboats and headed up the beach. At least the trees would provide them with some shade from the blistering sun. Maeve and Sinbad led the group into the dense wood. Out of deference to Maeve's foreboding, Sinbad had kept the party small. Besides the two of them, there was only Doubar, Rongar and Firouz. It sounded like more, though. Firouz was behind her chattering loudly about some strange plants he kept seeing. She wished he'd pipe down. She was having a hard time keeping her barriers up and listening to Dermott's directions at the same time, let alone concentrating on anything else.

"Maeve?" Sinbad asked quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "What happened back there?"

This was hardly the time for a confessional on her part. "The same thing that's going to happen again if you don't shut up and stop distracting me!" she snapped, a little louder than she wanted to. Behind her, Doubar, Rongar and Firouz exchanged meaningful glances. Sinbad looked slightly hurt, but quickly hid it.

Maeve pushed aside a twinge of guilt. There'd be time enough for apologies after they finished their task and got back to the ship.

Dermott greeted them with a cheerful screech when they reached the fresh water stream. It was a beautiful spot. It reminded her of the woodland glens of her homeland. But Maeve would not let herself be fooled. The most sterling appearance could possess the ugliest core, especially where magic was concerned. She hung off to the side while her shipmates quenched their thirst, keeping her senses on guard. She would not be caught unaware like she had so often in the past. Not this time.

The men reveled in the cool water like it was a gift from Allah Himself. Doubar certainly wasted no time. He waded in and began drinking handfuls of water like he intended to drain the streambed dry. Rongar knelt at the edge and used his hands to pour water over his hairless head.

It was a beautiful island. It had an unspoiled beauty that appealed to Sinbad. It was the kind of island that he would have liked to spend a few days on, magical forebodings aside.

Sinbad watched as Maeve lurked on the edge of the clearing. Rarely had he ever seen her this agitated. He hoped her fears came to nothing. Perhaps her feelings were groundless. This could be just a harmless little island in the middle of nowhere.

There was a first time for everything, right?

Firouz bounded up to him, nearly bursting with excitement. He was holding a, unimpressive looking weed in his hand.

"Blumea balsamifera!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Sinbad was decidedly nonplussed.

"Blumea balsamifera! More commonly known as the Sambong plant. It's renowned for its outstanding antipyretic, analgesic and anti-inflammatory properties."

Sinbad didn't even pretend to understand a word of what the other man was saying. "Looks like a weed to me, Firouz, but I'll take your word for it."

"This island's covered with it," he persisted. "I simply must collect some to bring back to the Nomad."

"I don't like the idea of anyone going off on their own. This place gives Maeve the creeps," he admonished.

But Firouz was already headed back into the woods, "It'll only take a few moments. Funny, I didn't think Sambong was indigenous to this area …"

"Just don't go far!" the captain called out. Honestly, who would have thought that captaining a ship required so much babysitting?

"Just leave him be, brother," Doubar called from knee-deep in the stream. "He can take care of himself. Besides, this island's like a paradise. What are you worried about?"

Sinbad glanced at Maeve again. 'It's not me that's worried,' he thought. Maeve was acting stranger by the moment. Her eyes darted back and forth, like she was expecting something to leap out from the cover of the woods and devour them all whole. This was paranoid even for Maeve. Enough was enough.

He called out to the sorceress. "Maeve, why don't you come enjoy the stream?"

Maeve acted like she hadn't even heard him.

This was getting old fast. "Maeve! There's nothing out there," the Captain insisted, his frustration beginning to show.

Dermott screeched from the branches of a nearby tree. He bobbed his head nervously a few times and took off, crying loud enough to wake the dead as he went.

"We need to go," Maeve proclaimed. "Now." She looked as if she was about to take off just like her pet.

Sinbad barked at her, "Maeve, there's nothing out there!"

"Yes there is!" Maeve yelled.

Sinbad felt it then. It felt like someone was trying to pull a rug out from under him. Except there was no rug. Someone was trying to pull the world out from under him. It rolled under his feet.

For Maeve it was like a shockwave. She fell to the ground in a fit, her body shaking. Sinbad ran to her side. Doubar and Rongar scrambled out of the water.

Sinbad watched in horror as Maeve started violently convulsing. He tried to hold the woman still, but it was like someone was feeding a bolt of lightning right through her. He started yelling for Firouz, hoping the physician could do something for her.

"What kind of deviltry is this?" Doubar cried.

The ground beneath them rebelled, letting out one mighty heave after another. Maeve and the soil beneath her jerked in unison. Sinbad was gripping her so hard, he was sure she would have bruises. He just hoped she was in good enough shape to rage at him about it after this was over. He cursed to himself. Where the devil was Firouz?

The earth and Maeve quaked one final time. Then, as abruptly as it had revolted, it stilled.

"Maeve!" Sinbad tried to rouse the insensate sorceress. She was pale, motionless, and her breath came in shallow gasps. "Doubar, find Firouz, now!"

The shell-shocked Doubar only hesitated for a moment before lumbering off into the woods, calling for the physician in his booming voice.

Sinbad continued trying to rouse Maeve, but she just lay there. All he could think, as he sat there on the bank of the stream, cradling his friend in his arms, was how sorry he was that he hadn't listened to her in the first place, and gotten the hell out of there when they had the chance.

TBC

Not 100 pleased with this chapter, but I gotta spit it out to get on c/the rest of the story. Hope it doesn't disappoint too much. I seem to have a rougher time writing Maeve than the other characters.

Now that I'm sure I want to continue the story (thanks to all the sweet reviews I received) I'm in the market for a beta-reader. If anyone would like to volunteer, you can email me through my author page.

Space-Case7029, dshortclutz, Dita:

Thx for the reviews! Glad to see fans of the take-your-sweet-time school of romantic fic writing.


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